


Fool's Holiday

by DisasterSoundtrack



Series: Kill a Liar [4]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterSoundtrack/pseuds/DisasterSoundtrack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, okay, calm down. Think about Brian. Think about first Christmas together, cuddling in bed all night and unwrapping presents in the morning. Think about hot chocolate with marshmallows and the amazing sex you'll have. You're gonna have so much amazing sex to make up for that week of separation and for this horrible, traumatizing experience of driving in the snow.</p><p>(Also know as the one with a blizzard, two ugly sweaters and a salvaged photograph.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool's Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Someday I'll stop stealing All Time Low's song titles, but this is not this day.
> 
> Careful: contains fluff. Lots of it.

''Katya? Katya, baby, are you there? You have to tell me you're there, I'm freaking out.''

There's nothing but static coming from Katya's end of the line. It's the fifth time I've tried to reach him to no avail; the connection has been made, but nobody spoke up, and I'm starting to lose it.

I'm in New York the morning after my gig and almost snowed in. There's no reason to be worried about Katya at all, except the heavy snowfall in Boston is all over the news and I didn't hear from my boyfriend ever since yesterday morning.

So it's been more than 24 hours, and it's the day before Christmas. Here's my reason to worry.

I throw my phone onto the bed and start packing frantically. My flight right after the show got cancelled due to weather conditions; I was supposed to go this morning, but the planes are still grounded.

I'm grounded. I miss Katya and his little apartment above a club; we even bought a Christmas tree last week and decorated it together. I was supposed to be enjoying the holidays with the person I love right now. Instead, I'm throwing my belongings into a pink suitcase while the wind is blowing snow in all possible directions behind the hotel window.

There's determination growing in me when I exit the hotel and rent a car. I take a deep breath as soon as I'm seated behind the wheel in a parking lot and try to reach Katya once again.

This time, nobody picks up.

*

The thing is, I hate driving. I never managed to like it, cars and especially trucks speeding right by me terrify me almost to death, and I have a headache after half an hour from concentrating so hard on the road.

Driving in the snow is even worse. I'm trying my best, blasting Christmas music from my iPod plugged to the car radio (the normal radio isn't working, the weather's too bad). I call Katya every thirty minutes. Once I even think I hear something on the other end of the line, but it's just for a second and turns into more silence later.

_Please, Katya, just be okay. Please just be fine._

I'm not panicking, of course I'm not panicking. Katya is a grown man who can handle his own against some wind and snow, right? Right?

I'm trying to concentrate on the road, not on the bad thoughts. Driving on the highway is not the most demanding thing ever, but with the hellish weather conditions, it becomes the hardest challenge I've ever had to face.

There are electronic displays above the road every once in a while. All of them say ''HEAVY SNOWFALL CAREFUL REDUCE SPEED''. I imagine they should display ''SHOULD'VE STAYED HOME ASSHAT'', because I'm sure I'm going to die very soon.

I'm halfway to Boston when I see lights flashing red and blue ahead of me. Oh, shit. An accident or a roadblock. Either way, I'm fucked.

I slowly approach the line of police cars and roll down the window to ask an officer about the problem.

''There's been an accident, sir. We advise everybody to return and take an alternate route.''

I have no time or patience for alternate routes.

I think about Katya, alone in his apartment, snuggled comfortably under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate, looking at the Christmas tree we've decorated.

 

_''You can't put a doll on top of our tree, come the fuck on.''_

_''Why not? If there's no doll, there's no hammer and sickle either!''_

_Katya pouts at me._

_''At least make it as if the tree is coming out of her anus.''_

_I laugh. ''You want me to impale her?''_

_''My house, my rules, blyat'.''_

_It's not easy to impale a plastic doll on top of a Christmas tree, but I succeed. As soon as I do, Katya grabs me by the hands and takes me into his arms._

_''Look at our tree. It's beautiful!''_

_The tree is full of little stuffed animals, gifts Katya got from her fans that have been collecting dust in his storage, plastic jewellery and ornaments from the dollar store. Only half the lights are working. I glance at Katya's face; my boyfriend is grinning blissfully, making everything inside of me soft and mellow._

_''You're an idiot and I'm still not sure why I'm in love with you.''_

_''Love you too'', says Katya, bringing me closer and kissing me. I'm really looking forward to this Christmas._

 

And then I think about Katya again, freaking out because I keep calling him and he's not hearing what I'm trying to say, or the other way around.

''I really need to go through. I'll be fine'', I tell the police officer, and the man lets me go.

I slowly drive by the accident scene and my heart makes a somersault. Two cars have crashed into each other and there's very little left of the first one, while the second one is lying on its roof in the ditch.

_Okay, okay, calm down. Think about Brian. Think about first Christmas together, cuddling in bed all night and unwrapping presents in the morning. Think about hot chocolate with marshmallows and the amazing sex you'll have. You're gonna have so much amazing sex to make up for that week of separation and for this horrible, traumatizing experience of driving in the snow._

I'm trying my hardest, but when I see a gas station that's apparently working, I decide to stop for coffee. I'm also hoping my hands will stop shaking.

I'm paying for the coffee and almost drop the cup when I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket.

It's Katya.

''Hello? Bri, please tell me you're alive and they're not calling me from the hospital or the morgue, I'm begging you.''

The phonecall ends before I can hear anything. ''Fuck!''

A teenage clerk behind the register sends me a sympathetic smile.

''I'm sure your Bri is alive. Where are you headed?'' she asks, handing me change.

''Boston. Haven't heard from him since yesterday morning and I'm pretty freaked out, you know.''

''Yeah, I get that. Hope he's okay. Be careful out there'', she smiles again, and I leave.

The rest of the road is quite uneventful, luckily. I'm singing aloud to Christmas songs, trying to be even louder than my thoughts. The windshields are working tirelessly while the wind keeps on blowing, throwing snow around. Nobody should be driving in these conditions, I know that. I know I'm doing a crazy thing, but the crazy thing was the only reasonable option.

I'm driving through the outskirts of Boston and the city seems almost dead, or at least apocalyptic. The sporadic cars that pass by my rental go slowly and carefully and I do the same, although my heart is screaming at me to go faster, faster, fucking kill the engine. My hands are not shaky anymore, but they're sweaty, sliding on the steering wheel.

Fifteen minutes and I should be there. In fifteen minutes, I'll know.

When I reach the destination, it's just after three in the afternoon, but it's almost pitch dark. Getting out of the car proves extremely difficult. As soon as I abandon the rental on Katya's street, as empty as everywhere in this town tonight, I put up the hood of my fluffy winter jacket and run the distance to the building's entrance, as fast as I can while carrying a suitcase I'm unable to drag due to lumps of snow lying on the ground.

I'm dishevelled, pink in the cheeks and breathless when I climb the stairs and knock at Katya's door like a maniac. I ring the bell, too, just for good measure.

_Please open up. Please open up. Please open –_

The door opens, flooding me with warm light. In the corner of my eye, I see the sorry excuse of a Christmas tree, but first of all, most of all, I see Katya, Brian, my Brian, pale and worried but obviously in one piece and alive. And Katya says nothing, just takes a step forward and hugs me with all the might of his bony arms.

We stay like that for a while, me hugging Katya back, taking in his smell of shampoo and cigarette smoke. When Katya finally breaks the hug, his eyes are straight up lunatic.

''Holy fuck, Trix, I though you were fucking dead, how did you even get here, it's literally impossible to step out, the phones don't work and I've been trying to walk to a store two hours ago, and – doesn't matter – how? Oh my god, fuck, I love you, I love you so much, but you're a giant fucktard, you know? I'm so happy you're here.''

I take off my jacket and bring the suitcase into Katya's apartment, locking the door behind me. Katya is still talking when I do that, hands flying up and down in the air, and then I just kiss my boyfriend to shut him up, like I always do. As soon as our lips and tongues join, I feel a gigantic weight roll off my back. I breathe a sigh of relief right into Katya's mouth.

There's something about Katya's kisses I have never felt with anyone else, and it's neither Katya's slutty tongue nor the way he likes to bite. It's more of a feeling that comes with them, the feeling of being at peace; the feeling of unity.

I'm finally home. My home is never a place; it's always a person.

My person is digging his nails into my lower back through my sweater right now.

''I though you were dead, too. That's why I took a car.''

''You took a car? In the storm? Who drove you?''

''I drove myself, silly. What do you think?''

Katya frowns. ''Isn't that, like, your worst nightmare coming true?''

''It kinda is. But it was the only way to see your shitty face before Christmas.''

Upon hearing this, Katya throws himself at me again, showering my cheeks with tiny kisses. ''You're awesome, you know that? But also very, very stupid.''

''Yeah, whatever. Will you make me hot chocolate now, please?''

''I'm on it!''

I take off my shoes and before Katya comes back with the chocolate, I'm on the couch under a red blanket, admiring the Christmas tree.

''All of the lights work! You fixed it!''

''Nah, I had David fix it. But if you wanna think it's me, I won't mind.'' Katya hands me the cup of hot chocolate. It smells delicious, Christmas-y and like childhood itself. It reminds me of all the winters at home in Milwaukee with my family. Some of them have been wonderful, some dreadful, some just okay, but they've made me the man I am today.

The chocolate tastes delicious, too. Katya stands in front of the couch, waiting for my reaction.

''It's delicious, really good. Come here! I saved you a warm spot on my lap.''

I take another sip of the beverage before I put it away on a coffee table. Katya sits next to me, gets under the blanket, hands searching for my hands until our fingers entwine, and he snuggles into me, hiding his face in my black sweater.

There's no need to talk when we're feeling so comfortable. We're cuddling, I can feel the chocolate warming me up from the inside and my boyfriend's body warming me up from the outside. I couldn't care less about the blizzard roaring behind the windows.

It's fifteen minutes before I realize Katya is asleep and about ten more minutes before I drift off as well.

*

It's probably night already when an uneasy dream wakes me up. Katya is lying face flat on my chest while I'm stuck between his body and the corner of the couch, all tangled up in a blanket. My bladder is about to give out.

''Kat, baby'', I try to wake him up gently, with a kiss to the top of his head. He stirs a little, then makes a disappointed sound and grabs me tight around the waist. ''Bri. You wanna go to bed?''

He shakes his head no. I try to break free.

''No no no, don't go, you're so comfy.''

''I gotta go pee. Be right back, okay?''

Katya finally lets go of my sweater.

As soon as I'm back from the bathroom, I notice a slight change of the situation. Katya is now sprawled on the couch, taking up all the available space, snoring lightly. I don't have the conscience to wake him again, especially since he probably stayed up all night when we couldn't get in touch.

I turn off the living room lights and retreat to the bedroom, trying to enjoy having the cool, spacious bed entirely for myself.

Katya crawls in with me sometime before the sun rises. He hogs all the blankets and breathes warmth on me.

_Home._

*

''Shit, Trix, this is bad'', says Katya from his spot on the carpet right next to the Christmas tree, right after he tears up the wrapping of a present. This one is a package from his mom. ''So my mom picked up knitting a few years ago, and she knitted me a sweater.'' He shows me the clothing in question and it's black with inexplicable, randomly placed images of freaky blue eyes.

''It's – cute, I guess?''

''No, babe, it gets so much worse.'' Katya pulls out another item for the package. It's also black, but with a slightly disfigured image of a Barbie doll in the front, and pink letters spelling Barbie in the back. ''My mom knitted _you_ a sweater.''

''Oh my God.'' I intercept the sweater from Katya and immediately put it on over my pajamas. The wool itches around my neck, but it's an ugly Christmas sweater made for me by my boyfriend's mom, and I thought these things only happen in movies. ''It's – it's absolutely perfect. That's so great, Bri. I love your mom already.''

Katya's face changes from shocked, to confused, to visibly glad. ''She's already taken. Sorry.''

''I think I'm good. Put on yours, too!''

''Do I haaaaave to?'', he whines.

''If you want to get your present from me, then yeah. Do it.''

He grimaces, but puts the sweater on, and it's not like Katya would object to wearing some creepy blue eyes all over his body. ''Now give me the gift. I've been a good girl, haven't I? I know I have!"

He gets hyperactive, starts bouncing up and down, almost tearing the bag away from me.

So I bought him an expensive, beautiful leather jacket, a lingerie set and a collector's box of Dostoyevski's works. I watch his eyes widen with each and every unwrapped gift and my heart swells as he shakes his head, mutters "This fucking bitch", and throws himself at me, suspending his upper body weight on my neck.

I receive brand new sunglasses ("For sunny LA days"), a pink, transparent umbrella ("For rainy Boston days"), a fancy box of sophisticated sex toys ("For lonely nights anywhere"), and Katya's old, battered copy of _On The Road_ ("For your nearest flight, because I can't believe you still haven't read it"). This man knows me so well and I love the gifts so much I hesitate for a second before revealing the one last present I got Katya.

''Bri, I - there's one more thing I wanna give you.''

''Yeah?'' He tilts his head, clasping his fingers on my wrist. ''What's with the build-up, then?''

''It's - it's really nothing. It's cheesy.''

''Like a give a fuck. Gimme!''

He tears apart the sparkly paper wrapping as soon as he touches the package. I carefully observe the look on his face when he glances at the framed photo I had to move heaven and hell for, but I finally got it.

There's a very short note I put at the back of the photo. _Firkus/McCook, 2014, LA._

''How did you - Trixie, you are... I thought it was lost, gone forever.''

''I'm not gonna say it was easy to find, but... Merry Christmas, baby.''

Katya's hugging me again, shaking slightly, his voice rich with tears when he says "Merry Christmas, Brian.''

Together, we hang the photo on Katya's bedroom wall. Beneath the smooth glass surface, there's the two of us right after the filming of episode 2 of our RPDR season has wrapped. We're standing backstage; cameras, lights and wires to our right, clothes' racks to our left; we're still in our Jetset Eleganza outfits, still nearly strangers, hardly even acquainted, but people like us always find each other, somehow, and choose each other unconsciously before life does it for us. In the photo Katya is visibly tired after her lipsync against Sasha, but I'm lifting her hand in a victory gesture, like she's a fighter who's just demolished her opponent in a fight. We're sharing an almost affectionate look and a smile, like we know all about the world's mischief.

This is the first photo of the two of us together, and we both thought it got lost and buried in the mess that was RuPaul's Drag Race.

I managed to salvage it.

''I love this photo.'' Katya grabs me by the hand and entwines our fingers. ''I'm just wondering how many producer dicks you had to suck to get it.''

''Somewhere between ten to fifteen'', I answer jokingly, prodding him between the ribs playfully. Before he has a chance to give me the taste of my own medicine, his phone starts ringing to the tune of _Last Christmas_. ''Oh, hi, mom! Hello! Merry Christmas to you too!''

*

Taking my eyes off Katya always proves extremely difficult. I don't even mean watching him perform or get in drag, because that would obviously mesmerize almost anyone; I mean the ordinary things, like right now, when he's leaning against his kitchen counter, on the phone with his mom. His face is so lively and animated, he's banging his short boy nails against the counter, rolls his eyes from time to time, making weird faces at me. I find myself content just watching him, playing with the hem of my new Christmas sweater, wondering how did life take me here.

''Oh, he wants me to tell you he loves it. He actually does! He's – he's wearing it right now. Yeah, I don't believe that either! I can send you a picture. I – can you put dad on for a second – I just want to – sure! Hi dad! Merry Christmas, enjoying Florida?''

As soon as he's done with the phonecall, I walk up to him to intercept his iPhone, making sure he doesn't call anybody else.

''We're going for a walk, bitch. The snowstorm's died, it's a perfect opportunity. Come on. You're taking me to that place where they serve coffee with booze in it.''

''That place might be my apartment if you want. A little trip to the liquor store and you're all set.''

''Nah, I wanna go for a walk with you. See the city.''

I have this incredibly romantic idea of us walking the streets of Boston while it's snowing, hands joined, Christmas lights dancing on our faces, the cold biting our skin slightly.

Katya regards me wonderingly. ''So you're positive you don't wanna stay home?'' He's using his seductress voice I can so easily fall for. My dick twitches in my underwear. I'm going to be stronger than that.

''Positive. Get dressed.''

*

Boston is dazzling this time of year.

The snow covers up almost every available surface, so if there's any dirt or filth, you can't see it. The storm has ended just a couple of hours ago, but the sidewalks are already good to walk, so we walk. We're holding hands, like we're stupid and struck by love (we are). The sky is bright, it's snowing a little and the prettiest snowflakes land on Katya's beanie, on his red scarf I bought him once and on his eyelashes; I notice it all while we stop to cross the street. It still feels new and foreign to me to be this cozy and close in a relationship, but if that's how Katya wants to do things, it's fine. It's how I want to do things too.

''Where are you taking me?''

''To the Common to see the Christmas tree.'' He leans in to whisper in my ear, ''Finally you'd see how a real tree looks like. This one has no naked Barbies on top, you know.''

''I won't believe it until I see it!''

The tree is stunning: it's all colorful, streamy lights and a bright star on top. I have seen plenty Christmas trees in my life, but this one feels different somehow. Maybe it's the families taking pictures around it, smiling, kids throwing snowballs at each other. Fuck, I don't even like kids that much. Maybe it's the snow falling, making everything seem magical and enchanted.

Maybe it's the hand, wrapped in a fingerless glove, that's hidden in my hand.

''Do you like the tree, Trix? Why are you looking at me like this? Something wrong?''

Nothing's wrong. I pull Katya closer by the scarf I once bought him at an airport, before the flight that was the end of my life in cowardice; I bring him so close I can lay my lips upon his. I steal him a breathtaking kiss right by the second most beautiful Christmas tree I've even seen.

The most beautiful is the one in Katya's apartment. Our one.

Our mouths move against each other, tasting melting snowflakes, hands still clasped together, until we stop to breathe.

''Are you trying to make me horny? Because you know you're succeeding.'' Katya winks at me obnoxiously with a nearly vulgar smile.

''Shut up, I'm having a moment here. Trying to have a moment with you, actually.''

''Let's go have a moment in my bedroom, how about that?''

''You know nothing about being romantic, you heartless beast'', I tell him, but I'm grinnng. ''First take me to that place with alcoholic coffee. I can get it to go.''

*

Katya's body is made for worship.

He doesn't really acknowledge that fact.

Where he sees skin and bones, I see muscle.

Where he sees thinning hair, I see soft, golden strands.

Where he sees wrinkles, I see smile lines around his eyes.

This is how it goes.

It also goes like this: we're horny. We come back from our walk cold and riled up; I can also feel the alcohol cruising in my veins. Katya's cheeks are pink, his hair tousled when he takes off his beanie and all I want to do is rip the ugly sweater off him. He kind of has the same idea about me.

''Brian'', I inquire, ''would it be very unchristian to bang on the presence of a Christmas tree?''

He traces his fingers along my spine, his stubble scratching my jawline. ''Like I give a shit.''

A small chuckle escapes my lips. I've waited long enough, so I want to go faster from now on.

Katya's rapid kiss makes my heart skip a bit.

Our love is the only thing that makes me feel this drunk. Like I don't need to come up for air anymore, not ever. Like the headrush us the only thing I'm breathing for.

He makes me take it on the couch in the middle of the living room, with the curtains open.

I hold onto his arms for dear life. He feels the pain, starts moving slower, kisses me tenderly. I make him pick up the pace again. We torture each other. We're cruel. We're one.

We come all over a red checkered blanket while the Barbie doll from the treetop watches.

Still trying to catch my breath, I look into Katya's cold blues. He lights up a cigarette and I can't stop thinking about what my high school friend once told me.

_Love is like somebody taking all of your monsters and locking them away, forever, if you're lucky._

_Stupid,_ I'm thinking. With Katya, it feels more like somebody's stuffing all my monsters down my throat daily, forcing me to drive a rental car through a blizzard, and I'm okay with that. I just have much more to lose now.

''What you thinking 'bout?'', he asks.

''Just how deranged you are, nothing much. You?''

''How much New Year's Eve without you is gonna suck.'' We have separate gigs on New Year's Eve, yes: me in LA, Katya in Brazil. ''And that I have to do laundry.'' He starts laughing for some reason, puts out his cig and drags me closer, until I rest my head against his naked chest, and I can't do anything but laugh too. ''Let's go take a shower, okay?''

*

We might be a memory someday.

Some nights I sit by the open window, thinking about the photograph I gave Katya today and how those days are already past us, gone forever. Some nights, everything seems fragile.

But then I close the window and leave the memories behind, and I concentrate on living in the now.

And then there are nights like this one.

Katya is setting the table for our Christmas feast, provided by his favorite pizza place and the nearest Thai restaurant.

''Will Miss Trixie Mattel, double loser of one show called RuPaul's Drag Race, care to join me, Brooke Hogan of drag, straight outta the dumpster, for this delicious dinner?'', he asks, barely containing his laughter.

''It would be an honor, Miss Loser, I mean, Miss Zamo.''

''The food sophisticated enough for you?''

''Bitch, you know I'm, like, basic. As long as there's no meat, I'm cool.''

Before I sit down to eat, I take a look at my boyfriend, standing at the table's end, framed by Christmas lights like a renaissance painting, wearing a threadbare grey t-shirt with some occasional sequins, pride and joy visible on his face.

''Are you ready to eat, Katya? I'm starving.''

''I – yeah, I am. I've just been thinking how much I'm enjoying our little Christmas.''

My heart swells. ''Me too. But there's one thing missing, have you realized? There's no mistletoe in your house!''

''Bri, do you seriously think I need to use mistletoe as an excuse to make out with you?''

He doesn't need to. He definitely doesn't, and when he approaches me to prove that point, I'm pretty certain I'm enjoying our little Christmas too.

A lot.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love you hear from you, Reader! Should I keep writing these two? Angst or fluff?
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays! 
> 
> Forever yours at samrull.tumblr.com


End file.
